Page 10 of Hot Girls Date Demons

I check his pulse and lean over him and, oh my God, he smells exactly like my favorite chocolate.

Dark chocolate with raspberries.

The expensive kind I only buy when I've had a really bad week.

And somehow—because clearly I am overworked and undersexed—my crazy brain decides that might actually be the strangest part of this whole night.

His lips part.

His voice comes out rough.

Broken.

“It’s you. Mate.”

I blink.

“Excuse me?”

His eyes drift closed.

And the giant, terrifyingly beautiful man collapses directly into my arms.

Two

Desmond

Pain.

Not the kind mortals complain about after stubbing a toe or sleeping wrong.

Real pain.

Ancient pain.

The sort that tears through flesh, bone, and soul alike.

Three hundred years on this miserable planet and I have never experienced anything like it.

I grip the edge of my seat as another wave crashes through me.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

Magic sparks beneath my skin.

Unstable.

Wild.

The glamour I'd carefully maintained for decades flickers.

Then fails completely.

Shit.

My horns push through first.

Curved spirals that mark me for exactly what I am.